Rapture
by blubelle
Summary: The 7 Deadly Sins. Seven 250 word drabbles each centered on a different sin. Yamamoto&Gokudera. Please review, let me know what you think. I don't own anything.
1. Gluttony

**Gluttony**

"Oh, you're on".

He couldn't remember when the entirety of their relationship became based so solely on competition, but he had no problems living up to a challenge. Especially one involving free food provided so openly and kindly by the Yamamoto family sushi restaurant.

It would be a valiant tournament of dueling chopsticks and stuffed cheeks. Glares were exchanged throughout the tenure of the contest and neither would have had it any other way.

It was an honorable stand-off but in the end, he'd concede to the defeat that was handed to him courtesy of the daily carbohydrate-burning freak of nature with the sudden dropping of those flimsy, poorly pulled apart chop sticks. Somehow, he'd find himself able to accept the loss when the two of them could be found passed out on the floor, drunk on their own stubborn natures and bellies protruding to next week.

The only sounds concerning the match wouldn't be frenzied words regarding his defeat. Both were aware of who was victorious. No words were needed and regardless, the last thing either teen wanted to do was speak due to the stipulations of the competition and the extent of their eating binge.

Instead, all that could be heard was their soft breathing, both feeling like laughing just because neither thought that eating could be so exhausting.

And he almost forgot his sudden stomach cramping when Yamamoto turned to him and smiled. And in an oddly uncharacteristic way, he couldn't stop himself from smiling back.


	2. Wrath

**Wrath**

Yamamoto was older now but still, he had never punched through a wall before. He held his bloody, most likely fractured hand in the other one, not able to take his thoughts off of their last job. His mind whirling with 'what-ifs' and doubt. Openly wondering how he had almost let his partner down, how he had almost let him get mortally wounded.

That night his recent nightmares increased. A night of turning in his bed, an action so indicative of how his stomach had felt since his actions of just a few hours before.

The next day he found himself in front of Gokudera's door repeatedly just to calm that insatiable urge to make the nightmares less believable. To examine what was truly reality.

Coincidentally his anger subsided each time Gokudera slammed the door in his face.

After multiple visits, he had finally had enough. The paranoia and guilt within him had become too much. The hardly receding images of Gokudera's false death made him reach his bloody bandaged hand through the small slit in the door that Gokudera had provided, preventing that inevitable bang.

He had to make amends, not just for the sake of their partnership but for the sake of his sanity. He didn't plan on a forceful reconciliatory planting of his lips on his rivals. Somehow though, Gokudera understood that the odd gesture was explaining to him the sorrow and fear his friend felt.

So he reciprocated. He couldn't stand to lose him either.


	3. Sloth

**Sloth**

There were a lot of things he should've been doing instead of lying in bed. In lieu of falling even further into the mattress and as a substitute for closing his exhausted eyes once again, he should've been blinking them awake and picking the sleep from the corners. Those lanky legs should've already swung over and off one side of the bed.

His daily routine of showering and adhering to that strict dress code should've already begun, preparation for a meeting in just half an hour.

Those comfortably warm covers created a warm atmosphere that seemed to wrap him within invitingly peaceful arms, furthering his indecision.

He was aware that he shouldn't have been having this thought process.

Yamamoto suddenly heard the hard striking of the red tip of a match stick onto the dark strip of it's little white book. The one it was so carelessly yanked from. He rolled over, still at odds over the day's scheduling and the harsh weighing of morals and responsibility. He turned his head toward the reason behind his irresolute behavior.

Gokudera was looking up at the ceiling. The smoke of his cigarette curling around his fingertips and up into the air of his room. He struggled around his newly injured arm for a second as he attempted to smooth the grayed ashes of his cigarette into his ashtray.

"Stay with me." Gokudera said before exhaling a long drag of smoke. And that was all he needed to hear.

Indecisiveness over.


	4. Envy

Envy

**Envy**

The newest manager of the baseball team was cute, too cute. That cropped, brown-red hair and saccharine giggle made him sick and he undoubtedly lacked the stomach for anything sweet.

Naturally, that overly exuberant little _thing_ took a liking to Yamamoto who, in his naturally naïve way completely disregarded her advancements as anything more than kind gestures. Gokudera on the other hand could see straight through that manipulative mind of hers.

Later, Gokudera watched her ask Yamamoto to walk her home. He didn't even stay to hear his answer, turning away instead in anger. He didn't necessarily know why it bothered him but as far as he was concerned, the flirty, flighty touches needed to stop.

He pushed aside the small amount of sanity he possessed, the part of him that screamed for him to forgo the likely confrontation. Unfortunately, like all of the times before, he ignored it as he grabbed the girl by her arm after school. A little chat was needed and for some reason he felt at ease.

Looking back he realized that he probably shouldn't have threatened her like he did. However, he supposed that what was in the past had to stay in the past. In the end it wasn't long until the incident failed to merit any further thought.

Gokudera grinned as he watched Yamamoto approach the manager and he felt satisfied when she looked over at him from down the hall and sprinted in the other direction.


	5. Pride

Pride

**Pride**

_He gazes in my direction and I look elsewhere._

Yamamoto was subtle about everything at first. Still, he knew that the message had reached my incapable hands.

_He starts a conversation and I grace him with monosyllabic contributions._

Yet he insisted on creating an even more lucid image of what he felt needed to be said. In general, I simply failed to _feel_.

_He enters the room and I stride toward the exit._

Audaciously he cornered me and my immediate urge to lash out soon dispelled into apathy. I shoved past him and after, he stayed away for awhile, allowing this sad consistency of mine to continue.

_He declares that he wants me and I tell him to fuck off._

Eventually, I simply told him to leave and the finality of my decision rang amongst his eyes. Originally where I was certain, suddenly felt utterly blank.

It took awhile to realize that I'd wanted the attention all along. I was blinded by something that had always been a part of me. I broke down then built myself back up with less fortification but much higher efficiency.

But it took awhile until he quit avoiding me again.

Finally, when he looked at me, I stared straight into his eyes. When he spoke to me, I conveyed my thoughts in length. When he entered a room I moved closer.

I whispered my apologies.

_And when he tells me that he hasn't gotten over me, I finally tell him the truth._


	6. Greed

**Greed**

The air he breathes, notwithstanding its toxicity, is sacred to me. I soak it in but it will never truly fill my starving lungs.

I consume his very presence. Walking atop his shadow in an attempt to gain fulfillment, but still my stomach yells for more.

I grasp at his odd sarcasm and attempt to play with it between my fingers. However, the pads of my fingers feel nothing more than the other's prints and so I find myself reaching again and again in protest.

I listen for his smile, my eyes softly closed to fully hear and appreciate the rare upturn of his lips. The pull of skin that is so familiar to a scowl rather than a grin. When this oddity occurs I pray desperately for the track to be placed on repeat so I can listen to it over and over.

I carefully smell for memories at every moment of the day. A vigilant search for anything that'll trip my power of recall and take me to a happier scene involving just the two of us.

My desire for him browns out my vision until only loose and broken outlines remain. Still, I stumble along regardless.

His attention, that seemingly trivial part of a day-to-day is what I value most. Unfortunately, it is never enough for the likes of my pining.

Yet, I gladly embrace the way I yearn for Gokudera. When the dark night finally comes I am rewarded for my greed.


	7. Lust

**Lust**

The room was a mess. The door handle sat motionless on the floor. The sheetrock of a nearby wall stood cracked from force. A lamp lied shattered on the ground the plug still attached and stretched from its connection to the socket.

And on the bed, two men hungrily moved about piled sheets.

Blue bruises and bloodied scrapes covered their naked bodies and more were being applied as the moment remained consistent from beginning to end.

The taller one pulled roughly on the other's hair, giving him an opportunity to forcefully attack his neck with his tongue and teeth. The pleasure could be seen on the shorter man's face for a brief instant before he shoved his head away and slapped him hard across the face. The tall one seemed encouraged by the action and moved overtop the other even harder.

Soon the taller of the two was lifting himself from the bed to leave room.

Upon returning, he leaned against the wall across from the bed. "I'm using you". He said quietly.

The other one lay exposed in bed smoking a cigarette. "Same", he said matter-of-factly.

"I'm not in love with you".

"I can't stand you half the time".

The one with the black hair moved toward the bed as naked as the other. "I want you".

The shorter one snubbed his cigarette out and looked up at the other through disheveled hair. "Thanks for the ego-stroke. Come back to bed".


End file.
